


Nausea (Sick Stiles Stilinski)

by RealWinchesterGirl95



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Cancer, Claudia Stilinski dies of stomach cancer, Mama Stilinski Feels, Protective Derek, Sick Stiles, Vomiting, Worried Derek, the flu?, the sheriffs name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-18 20:03:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3582120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RealWinchesterGirl95/pseuds/RealWinchesterGirl95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn't feel good. But it's just the flue, right?...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ!!
> 
> I know that Claudia Stilinski died of Frontotemporal Dementia, but for the purpose of this story she died of stomach cancer.
> 
> I'm honestly not sure if I want to continue this. I'd really like someone to write this with and bounce ideas off of. If you are interested please email me at paint_the_skies_grey@aol.com

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

I groaned as my alarm rang out into my quiet, still slightly dark, room. I rolled over and slapped it several times till it eventually fell to the floor, the plug getting yanked from the outlet. I rubbed my eyes and yawned, blinking several times till my eyes adjusted to the dim light. I turned on my phone and the screen read 7:15. It was a Saturday and I was getting up at the ass crack of dawn for a stupid pack meeting.

It had been four nights since I had gotten a good nights sleep. Usually when I couldn't sleep it was due to nightmares about the supernatural or whatever went bump in the night. But lately my nights had been spent tossing and turning and cradling an aching belly, willing the nausea to go away so that I could sleep for a few hours before my alarm woke me up for school.

The temptation to skip the pack meeting and just go back to sleep was strong. But I ignored it and got up, making my way to my bathroom. When I flipped on the lights I was greeted with purple under eyes and a pale face. More pale than usual. I laughed at that before turning on the water and brushing my teeth. 

I put my tooth bush back in its holder and cupped my hands under the faucet and brought the water up to my face. The cold water woke me up a little but it did nothing for the purple bags I was sporting. I sighed and tried harder to will the nausea away enough so that I was sure that I wasn't going to puke. After a couple of minutes I made my way back into my bedroom to change. I looked at the clock and sighed, I was going to be late.

When I got to Derek's loft I was met with the pack. The WHOLE pack. I was usually never the last one to show up. It's happened once before, but that was due to my Jeep that decided not to shift gears correctly and I ended up taking the bus that day.

"You're late." Derek growled from the center of the room. I gave a mumbled reply, earning a frown from the Alpha, and slumped down in an empty seat in the corner of the room.

"Hey, man. You feeling okay?" Scott asked. Looking at me with worried eyes. I brushed it off and waived my hand around in the hair. Dismissing his concern.

"I'm fine. Restless night." was the only excuse I gave. Too tired to talk about how sucky I was feeling. that seemed to put his worry to rest and they started the meeting. I wasn't able to follow along to what was going on. When I get sick, Adderall usually just made it worst. So I don't take it, which means that my ADHD always gets the better of me. 

What felt like a couple minutes later, but was clearly much longer than that, Scott was snapping his fingers in my face. "Wha?" I looked up to meet his eye.

"You sure you're okay? you look kinda greenish." the nausea had been getting worst since I had sat down in the chair.

"I think I need to go home." I was met with more worried looks from the rest of the group. "It's probably just a 24-hour thing. Ill be fine by school on Monday." I reassured. They gave me a look before filing out one by one, till only Derek and I were left.

"Stiles." 

"Yeah, I'm going." I sighed out. I stood, swayed, and started to make my way to the door.

"No," he grabbed me, hand wrapping around my bicep to keep me from leaving. "hold on." he got closer to me and... sniffed?

"What the hell-?" his face scrunched up.

"You smell sick." he notified. I raised my eyebrows.

"Dually noted." I made to leave again.

"Stiles." he didn't let go of my arm. "I don't mean you smell like you have a bug, I mean... actually I don't know. I've never really smelled this before."

I nodded my head, a serious look on my face. "I'm okay, I'll be okay." I reassured. He loosened his grip till he let his hand slid down my arm. He nodded before backing away and leaving me to leave. A sudden wave of dizziness hit me and I had to grab onto the loft door for support. Derek's strong hands suddenly gripping him by the shoulders.

"I got you." he said, lowering me to the ground. He put his hand against my forehead and held my head to the cool, metal, door to keep the room from spinning. I opened my eyes to see black veins lining Derek's arm as he took the icky to deal with it himself.

"Thanks." I said, when he moved his hand away.

"Come on, I'll dive you home." it was odd for Derek to offer to do something nice for me but I wasn't feeling up to denying the hospitality. I let him pull me to my feet and guide me to my Jeep. 

Later, when I got home, I slept the whole day, only waking up when my dad came home from his shift. Sunday was spent much the same way, in bed. When I ate some soup that my dad brought in for me I was in the bathroom twenty minutes later, puking. When I woke up on Monday morning I made the awful decision to go to school. The only puking incident I had was when I had the soup my dad brought me.

"Bilinski!" Coach slammed his hand down on my desk, grabbing my attention. "What's the matter with you? never mind, don't answer that. Pay attention!" he went back to the front of the classroom and started screaming at Greenberg for God knows why. I felt an overwhelming wave of dizziness and nausea. I swallowed, hard.

"Uh, Coach?" my voice wavered.

"What is it now Bilinski?"

"Hall pass?" Coach grunted before returning to his desk to grab the pass then threw it at me. I caught it and made to leave the classroom.When I got to the restroom the nausea took over and I fell to my knees in front of the toilet and emptied the nonexistent contents of my stomach.

"Stiles?" I would have been expecting Scott to come after me, but not Derek. 

"What are you doing here Derek? You're not a student." I grumbled between dry heaves. I kept my eyes shut throughout the whole ordeal. I flopped back against the stall wall and sighed before looking at him. Derek was crouched down behind me and had a worried look on his face. 

"What?" I asked. his eyes were glued to the toilet bowl, that I had yet to flush. I figured that the smell was probably getting to his sensitive nose. "Oh, sorry." I got up to flush but froze when I saw what was in it. I looked back at Derek, shock on my face. "Derek?" my voice sounded small and like it didn't come from me. He got up and stepped over me, flushing the toilet. We watched as the vomit and the ... blood as it swirled down the toilet.

Blood.

I felt my breathing pick up and my heart rate sky rocket, my hands shaking as they hovered in front of my face. The tell signs of a panic attack. "Stiles, breath." Derek grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me backwards out of the stall and into the main part of the restroom. "Common Stiles. Calm down." he stuck his nose behind my ear and inhaled deeply. "Sick." he muttered, smelling the sick seeping out of my pours. 

He settled me against the bathroom wall and crouched in front of me. "Hey, you with me?" he asked. In all my time I've known Derek he's always been kill first, ask questions later. So seeing this side of him for me was very odd.

I nodded my head. "Yeah, I'm here." my throat was dry, despite the vomiting. 

"I should call your dad. Or take you to the nurse or something." 

"My dad." I croaked, then cleared my throat. "Call my dad." 

This is how it started with my mom...


	2. Chapter 2

Slowly, I made my way into the house. Dad closed the door, softly, behind us. I didn't move more than a few steps into the house, too shocked with an emotion that I wasn't familiar with. An unsettling feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. It's probably the cancer my brain told me.

Cancer.

Seventeen years only and diagnosed with cancer. The same cancer that killed my mother. I jumped when I felt a calloused hand on my shoulder. I turned to see my dad, tears in his eyes, watching me. Like I might not last the next few seconds. Like I would end up like her. Six feet under.

I gave him a smile that I knew didn't quite reach my eyes, but tried none the less. In exchange he gave me a sad smile that made it hard to look at him. "I'm going to go upstairs and start on my homework." usually I didn't voice my plans like this but I knew that if I had just walked off that he would have followed me and demanded to know what I was planning on doing. He nodded his head and removed his hand from my shoulder and made his way into the kitchen, probably going for the bottle of scotch under the sink behind the spray bottles of kitchen and bathroom cleaner.

When I heard the kitchen cabinet door clap close I made my first move to go up the stairs. I held onto the handle the whole time, gripping it as if it held all the answers. I stopped at the top, not letting go.

One,

Two,

Three heartbeats later I let go and finished the climb. When I got to my room I didn't start in on my homework like I had told my dad, no, I just sat on my bed. I was in such deep thought that I didn't hear my window being opened behind me. But when the bed dipped beside me I didn't jump or flinch.

"Stiles,"

"Did you know that when a doctor calls time of death on a deceased person that they HAVE to tell the family. They actually have to say the words out loud to them. Something about having to hear the actual words 'we did all we could' and 'I'm sorry for your loss' to like... jumpstart the grieving process."

"Stiles-"

"So when you know you're going to die does that mean you can grieve your own death?"

"Stiles, what-"

"Cancer..., I have cancer." No one moved. No one breathed. I got the feeling that somehow my dad had heard me and that he too was holding his breath.

"Stiles, I-" this time I wasn't the one that had cut him off. He cut himself off, not knowing what to say. The silence went on for several minutes. But unlike our usual silence, this wasn't uncomfortable or awkward. It was welcoming.

"She had it too, ya know." I felt him look at me with a curious expression. "My mom. She had stomach cancer too." I felt his eyes bore into the side of my head as I talked. "She was stage four by the time she was diagnosed. They said that they would do everything they could to save her, but in the end she only had a few short, painful, months." I felt tears burn my eyes as I remembered the was she suffered. The agonizing pain that wouldn't go away, not even with high dosages of morphine. "I'm going to die." I whispered. "I'm going to die a agonizing death."

 

[Paint-the-skies-grey.tumblr.com/post/114690435068](Paint-the-skies-grey.tumblr.com/post/114690435068) (sorry it won't let me upload pics)

 

Derek grabbed my shoulder and turned me towards him. I was expecting him to tell me that I wasn't going to die, and mumble ways on how he was going to save me. But he didn't. He pulled he into his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around me, whispering 'I'm so sorry' over and over. By the third time he said it, tears were making steady streams down my cheeks and falling onto his leather jacket.

We stayed like that for a long time. Not moving. Not talking.

It was the most comfort I'd felt since my mom died.

I kept Derek's jacket clutched in my hands, even long after I had stopped crying. I somehow got the feeling that he didn't want to let me go as much as I didn't want to let him go. After a while, we heard cracking footsteps combing up the stairs. Seconds later my dad appeared in the doorway.

"Dinner's ready. Why don't you two come down and eat." It wasn't a question and I knew even though it I wasn't hungry that I needed to at least try, for my dad's sake, if not my own. By the time we made it to the table the smell of the food was making my stomach turn. My dad walked over to me and sat an orange pill bottle down in front of me.

"What's this?" I asked, picking it up and rolling it around.

"Till they know exactly what treatment to start you on, they gave you these to help with the nausea." I popped the cap and dumped a few into my hand. Inspecting them. They were, what I would describe as, white horse pills. I put them all back but one and put that in my mouth before picking up a glass of water and swallowing the pill.

"Is it helping?" Dad asked, half way through dinner. I focused on my stomach to see if the queasy feeling was any less than it normally was. It didn't feel like it was but I nodded.

"Yeah, a little." I lied. I saw Derek glare at me from under his lashes. Letting me know that he heard the lie in my heart. I cleared my throat. "So what's next for me?" dad put his fork down on his now empty plate.

"On Friday I'm taking you to have your biopsy done and then you'll start treatment not long after that, then if the tumor shrinks like they're hoping they'll do surgery and remove it." I nodded my head as I picked at my dinner, which was only half gone.

By the time dinner was over and I was back in my room, I was exhausted. I walked into my bathroom and quickly showered, re-entering my room in clean pajamas. Derek was sitting at my desk, waiting for me, when I walked in.

"I thought you left." I told him. Throwing my damp towel over the top of my closet door to dry.

"I did. But I came back in through the window so your dad wouldn't kick me out." his eyes not leaving my economics textbook as we spoke. "Are you okay?" I shrugged my shoulders.

"More or less." I sank down onto my bed. "I haven't puked. That's something, right?" Derek looked up at me then and gave a curt nod. Typical, I thought. We sat in more silence as he continued to read the passage in front of him and I kept my eyes locked on my ceiling. At some point I had laid down and I rolled my head to look at Derek's back.

"Sourwolf?" his head snapped around so fast that I'm sure if he wasn't a werewolf his head would have popped off. His expression was surprised and confused.

"You never call me that anymore." he declared. I ignored him.

"Why are you here?" he sighed and closed the book, turning in my swirly chair to face me. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"You're pack, Stiles." he got up and walked towards me, sitting next to where I was laying, facing away from me. "I may not always act like it but I care about you. You being pack doesn't make you a friend. It makes you our brother. My brother. And if that means being by your bedside while I watch you die, then so be it." Derek whispered the last part, not having the courage to speak it at a normal volume.

"Derek." this time he turned to look at me. I whispered out the next part. "How do I tell Scott?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Wh-what?" Scott practically whispered from beside me. We were sitting on his bed facing the door. Having the talk. No not the sex talk. Get your mind out of the gutter, gosh. 

"I have-" I started but my best friend cut me off. He shot up off the bed and finally faced me. Eyes wide and waving hands.

"Don't say it again!" it didn't come out angry sounding. It was more of a shocked/worried shout. He ran his hands through his hair and for a minute I thought he was going to wolf out and rip the hair right out of his head, but he didn't. He moved his hands from the top of his head to run them down his face, he sighed. He sat down again, but instead of sitting next to me he sat at his desk. Distance. "I can't," he choked on the words, swallowing hard. "I can't hear it. Not again, Stiles." he bowed his head and put his hands back in his hair.

"Do you want it?" I knew that he would ask at some point. He's Scott. He'd do anything to save me from... dying. I sighed.

"You already know the answer, Scott." Scott slammed his fist on his desk, denting it.

"But why, Stiles?! It could save you!"

"It could also kill me, Scott! Usually it's a 50/50 chance of survival, but with me already begin sick? It more than likely lowers my chances to 25%. And when have you ever known me to be a quitter? I wanna fight."

"But what if you're not strong enough?" I looked at my best friend, shocked.

"Oh ye of little faith."

"Did you just quote the bible at me?" he smirked, raising his eyebrows.

"Did you just doubt my ability to beat this?" the smile fell from his face and he looked serious again.

"I have no doubt that you can beat this. I just... I just can't stand to see you suffer. I-I've seen what chemo and radiation does to people. The side effects. I can't watch you go through that." I laid back on the bed, with my legs still hanging off the bed.

"Okay, first; we don't even know what kind of treatment I'm doing. They said that once I go in for the biopsy they'll be able to tell if they can just take it out. And if they can't then... we'll go from there." Scott stayed where he was. A look of defeat that I had never seen before was clear on his face.

"I can't... Stiles, you're my best friend. I can't just sit here and watch you die." His eyes teared up and I forced half my face to go up into a smirk.

"Common, Scott. When have you ever known me to give up with out a fight? Nah, man. This'll be hard sure. But so was getting the Nogitsune out of me, right? Pretty much the same thing." Scott's eyes widened.

"How in the holy hell is that the same thing!?" my face fell blank.

"I don't know. Dude, that sounded better in my head." I rubbed a clammy palm against my thigh clad jeans. "I don't know bro. I mean... It'll be a fight. But, I'm not going to let my last breath I take be due to me getting the bite because I was too much of a coward to fight this-" I made jerky motions to where my stomach was, "thing growing inside of me."

"It would make you a coward, Stiles. It would mean that you had a will to live. Can't you have that will?"

"Scott-"

"Just, promise me you'll think about it? Please, Stiles?"

"Okay." 

After a wild game of COD, Scott left, with the promise of a returning visit the next day. Hugging me too tightly for too long, Scott finally left. Alone. Finally. Derek or my dad are constantly by my side. Not that I don't appreciate the concern. But it's nice to just have a few moments to myself. I shut the door behind him and watched from the window as he got on his bike and made his was back to his house. It was well past dinner time by the time I made my way into the kitchen to look for something the least bit appealing. After going through all the cabinets and the fridge and finding nothing that I thought appetizing I decided against eating.

I finished putting the rest of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and made to run it. When I moved the dish detergent I found my fathers hidden bottle of bourbon. I started the dishwasher and made to leave the room before pausing. What could it hurt? It could hurt a lot, a voice told me. But I ignored it and grabbed the bottle before making my way into my room. 

The bottle was about half gone when I had gotten my hands on it and there was only a couple ounces when I was finished. I was laying on my bed facing the wall, almost asleep, when I heard the sound of my window being slid open. In fear that it was some unknown creature coming to end my life, I slid my hand between my bed and the wall and felt for the cool metal handle of my trusty bat. When I felt the bed dip behind me I swung around, swinging the bat through the air till it hit something solid.

"Ow! Dammit, Stiles!" someone yelled. The bat was suddenly ripped from my grasp and the light was thrown on. I flung my arm over my eyes to block out the light when I heard a loaded sigh. "Really, Stiles?" I laid back and blinked several times up at Derek. He had a blank look on his face. But I could tell that he was hiding an emotion behind it. Probably anger.

"Why would you do this to yourself, in your condition, Stiles? You can't be doing this kind of crap anymore. You have to take care of yourself!" he go up from my bed with a roar and threw the bottle across the room. It smashed against my closet door. "Why would you do this!?" I rolled onto my stomach and sighed.

"I can't do this."

"Do what, Stiles?" he huffed, still sounded angry.

"Die like her." I tried to make it come out clear but I know that it was muffled by my pillow and sounded like a whisper. The harsh look fell from his face and he sat back down next to me. He placed a hand on my back and ran another through my hair.

"Who, Stiles? Who died?"

"My mom," I slurred. "my mom died from stomach cancer too." Derek rolled me half onto my back and pulled me closer to him.

"Listen to me, Stiles. You aren't dead, okay? You aren't dead! You're here. You're here and you're drunk and you're with me."

I shook my head and he grabbed my hand. "No, you're wrong, Derek. I died the moment I was diagnosed." I rolled away from him and felt him pull my blanket up around my shoulders. "I'm already dead."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. My sister is getting married next month and I'm moving out of my parents house and two thousand miles away and I decided only to take what I could fit into a large suitcase and a carry on with me so I've been doing major cleaning and sorting. BUT here is the next chapter for y'all!

It had been two weeks since I had told Scott and thrown a near empty bottle of alcohol at Derek's head. I was sitting in a pretty comfortable chair with chemo poison being poured into my bloodstream. "How sick do you think this'll make me?" I turned to look where Derek was sat beside me.

"Doctor said it's different for everyone." despite the fact that we were in the chemo room, we were the only people here. There were two other people when we arrived but they had left a while ago. Derek's face scrunched up after a minute.

"What? What's that face for?" I reached up to touch his face, smoothing out the wrinkles.

"I can't smell you anymore." he stated. I looked at him confused.

"What do you mean?"

"You know how I told you that the chemo would change your smell?" I nodded. "It didn't. It totally washed it away. I can't smell you. I can only smell the chemo." we were quiet till a nurse came and unhooked me.

"What does chemo smell like?" I asked as he pulled me out of the wheelchair, damn hospital policies.

"Like the worst kind of poison." he put his hand on top of my head as he guided me to sit in the passenger side of his Honda. Even though it had only been twenty minutes since I was unhooked, I was already feeling the effects of the chemo. He walked around and got in the drivers seat. We drove in silence till he hit a pot hole at the same time my stomach decided it wanted to get queasy. I grabbed the Jesus handle with one hand and wrapped my free arm around my torso. I groaned, taking a shaky breath.

"Hey," he slowed down and reached a hand out to me. "you okay?" I clenched my jaw and breathed through my teeth.

"It's starting." 

 

I groaned, head still in the toilet. Derek reached around me and flushed it, pulling me back to lean on the tub. "Your dad will be home soon." he kept his voice low and quiet.

"I told you not to call him." I whispered.

"I didn't." I glared at him. "He called to check up on you and heard you vomiting. Said he was going to take the rest of the day off and come to take my place." I sighed, leaning my head back.

"I don't want him to see me like this. It'll just remind him of my mom and I can't stand to see that look on his face again." I pulled my knees up to my chest and laid my head on them, wrapping my arms around my legs.

"Do you think you're done puking?" I nodded and he started to pull me to my feet and practically took all my weight as we made it back to my bed. A bottle of water was shoved into my hands with the cap off. "Try to take small sips and not puke it up." 

"Is that the closest thing I'll be getting as a joke from you?" Derek grunted. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Alight, time for you to sleep." I rolled over onto my stomach. 

"I don't wanna." I mumbled into my pillow but I knew that Derek's werewolf hearing would be able to pick up on it.

"It's like," he leaned back and checked the clock. "ten o' clock. If you don't go to sleep now then when your dad gets home he's going to make a huge fuss over how you should be resting. And I wont interfere because I would agree with him." I huffed and closed my eyes in agreement with him.

"Fine, sleep now." 

 

"it's just so weird," my dad's voice came leaving through my ajar door. "I don't think he's ever been this still, even when he was still in the womb. He's always tossed and durned and talked in his sleep this is... this is weird." I couldn't hear when Derek started talking but what I did hear is when he said,

"...nothing happen to him. I wont let it. He'll always have me." a few short seconds went by before I heard him speak again. "He's awake now." my dad walked into the room and sat on the edge of my bed.

"Hey, son. How you feeling?" he put his hand on my back and I rolled with it, facing him.

"Like my veins are on fire. Water?" he reached over and grabbed my water bottle off of my bedside table. "Thanks." I took a few swallows before handing it back to him. "What time is it?" he looked to his watch,

"7:30. I have to head out to the station in a couple hours. You can go back to sleep if you want." I shook my head.

"I wanna get up and move around while I can." I sat up slowly. "And I seriously need a shower."

"Alright, well. Let us know if you need anything." he left and pulled my bedroom door halfway shut. I made my way to my bathroom but waited a few minutes, trying to figure out if I was going to be sick or not before I finally turned on the shower in the hopes that I wouldn't be sick and got in.

The hot water felt amazing as it ran over my skin and I washed away the smell of sickness. I couldn't help but wish that I could wash it away to the extent that Derek couldn't smell it anymore but I knew that that was impossible. After a few minutes under the stream of steamy hot water I realized that it was probably a bad idea to be taking such a long hot shower. Before I could even turn the shower off I was shaking and nauseas and could barely more. I sat in the tub. 

"Derek." I called, calmly. A few seconds later the bathroom door was being pushed open and Derek was sticking his head into the shower. "Off." I gestured to the shower controls with my head.

"Whats wrong?" he moved the shower curtain and crouched down by me after turning it off.

"Too hot. It like... zapped my energy. Now I can't stop shaking." he pulled my towel off of the rack and tried his best to wrap it around my curled up body.

"I'll go get you some water." I was going to protest in him leaving but within seconds he was back with my water bottle.

"Where's my dad?" I asked, taking small sips.

"They called him in early. He didn't want to go but I assured him that we would be okay without him. Was I wrong to do so?" I shook my head.

"No, you did the right thing." he nodded once and started to reach towards me. "Alright, lets get you dry." he pulled my up by my arms and supported most of my weight as he guided me into my room and into a pair of boxers and a long sleeved sleeping tee.

"Oh Derek, what would I do without you?" I said mockingly.

"Choke on your own vomit." I studied him for a few seconds.

"That's probably very accurate."


	5. Chapter 5

It had been two months since I had started my first round of chemo and I was finally done. I had been feeling worst than the first day, didn't know that was possible. Normally Derek or my dad was here to help/take care of me, but my dad was called into work and Derek was tracking a omega wolf through the woods. He was causing a big ruckus and Derek wanted him gone. Scott was supposed to be at my house at 3:30, after school, but he was late. He was probably with Kira, which I don't mine. But currently I needed a drink, too weak to get up off the floor to get it myself. Sent a quick text, asking how long he was going to be.

I got a 'on my way'. However by the time he finally bounded up the stairs and came into my room it was 4:56. He stared down at me with wide eyes and shock on his face. Usually when Scott would come over I would be pretty much okay. I only ever let him come over when I was having one now my 'good days'. Today was a very VERY bad day.

"Dude, are you okay?" I looked up from my place on the bathroom tiles, squinting against the light. I let out a weak sigh and licked my dry, cracked lips.

"Chemo, Scotty." I whispered out. He stepped towards me, crouching down a little.

"Want me to help you to your bed?" I closed my eyes, blocking out the light, and nodded. He gently grabbed me under my arms and slowly lifted me up. I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and let him take pretty much all my weight as he guided me to my bed. When I laid down Scott covered my body with my favorite blanket and I tugged it up all the way over my nose. He reached up and wiped away the sweat from my now bald head. When I saw him flinch I just stared at him, waiting.

"That's a lot of pain, Stiles." he kept his voice low. He placed his hand back on my head and started sucking out the pain. I pitifully swatted his hand away.

"Don't bother, it'll just be back in a few minutes, does more harm than good." he slowly nodded and sat silently.

"This is weird." I looked expecting lay at him and waited for him to continue. "You're never even this still when you're asleep, or like that one time you had the flu? It's unsettling." I moved the blanket from my mouth.

"Will you put on a movie?" Scott nodded and grabbed my laptop from my floor.

"Any requests?"

"I wanna laugh." so he grabbed a Adam Sandler classic and popped it into my laptop and started it. I didn't laugh. Scott let after a few movies, it was Friday night and he wanted to stay the night but I assured him that Derek and my dad would be home within an hour and I wouldn't be alone. So he begrudgingly left. I was in too much pain to sleep and before I knew it it was four a.m. and my door was being opened. Derek quietly made his way into my room.

"I'm awake."

"Okay." he sat down on my bed. "I wasn't sure. The chemo is messing with your heart." he ran his hand over the side of my head. "You cold?" it wasn't unusual for me to be cold at this point. I had lost enough weight that I could no longer keep myself worm.

"I've been without my personal space heater all day," I said with a smirk, "what do you think?" he chuckled at me and began to take off his shoes and jacket. He went around to the other side of the bed and laid down, closely, to me. The effect was almost instant and I starTed to warm up after feeling the heat that was radiating from his body.

"You have your scan tomorrow." he reminded. I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut. I knew that he could smell the fear and anxiety coming off of me so I didn't say anything. "I know your scared, but whatever they find, you'll be okay. Alright? We'll get through this." it took me a few beats to realize that he used the term 'we'll' and not 'you'll'. "Try and sleep, now." and so I did.

 

_When I woke up my mom was sitting at the edge of my bed and Derek and his warmth were gone. You're dreaming, my brain told me. I knew I was. My mom was dead therefore she couldn't be sitting on the edge of my bed. "Mom." I whispered, scared to scare the ghost away._

_"Stiles, baby." she turned to me and her eyes were filled with sorrow. She wasn't the mom I watched die in a hospital bed, connected to a plethora of tubes, she was the mom before that. Strong, beautiful, wise. This was the mom I always tried to think of when I missed her, not the other one. She crawled up towards me and ran her hand threw my hair. I had hair. Glorious dreams, I tell ya. "Baby, you can't give up. Stilinski's can't give up."_

_"But mom, I could see you again. We'd be together! I miss you." I whispered the last part as tears filled my eyes. "I wanna be with you again." her face grew sadder._

_"Stiles, baby. You have a whole life ahead of you. We will be together again, someday. But right now, you have friends who love and need you. And a very stubborn father in the need of someone. To take care of him. But only once you're better, of course." I sniffled._

_"But I miss you." she pulled me towards her, hugging me._

_"I know, baby. When you wake up, you're going to go to your scan and you'll figure out where to go from there, okay? You have to be strong for them. They need you. But it's also okay to let them see that, right now, you're weak. I love you, baby." she kissed my head and before I could say it back I was waking up._


	6. Authors note

Hey guys! Sorry I've left you hanging for so long but it's been a tough year. I know many of you loved his story so I am so sorry that I never continued it. 

I will not be continuing this story. I'm so sorry. But two days ago I had a friend die of cancer and I just don't think I could bring myself to continue this after all the suffering my friend went through and I don't want to think about what he went through every time I go to write. I love you guys so much though!

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ!!
> 
> I know that Claudia Stilinski died of Frontotemporal Dementia, but for the purpose of this story she died of stomach cancer.
> 
> I'm honestly not sure if I want to continue this. I'd really like someone to write this with and bounce ideas off of. If you are interested please email me at paint_the_skies_grey@aol.com


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